


After

by theroomstops



Series: Moments [7]
Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 21:46:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19071304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theroomstops/pseuds/theroomstops
Summary: “You know, I wasn’t actually dead. I didn’t ‘come back from the dead’, as they’re calling it. I’m not a zombie. And you don’t have to double check that I’m still here.”“I just missed you. So much that it hurt.” He offered a half smile, still not sure whether she was ready to hear all the details about what had happened to him while she’d been held prisoner. If she was ready to know what he’d tried to do after she’d appeared to dead. The extent to which he’d grieved and fought for her.David and Julia finally sit down and talk, for the first time after she appeared as a 2am ghost on his doorstep.





	After

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to amickhawes for being the one that sparked this idea. I was unable to let go of the thought of David and Julia dealing with their relationship. Having honest conversations and finding a way forward, even though I wanted to quit writing so many times throughout. So this is the first part of this little venture, of David and Julia coming to terms with things, dealing and moving on. There will be a few bits more, but it frankly felt like it was getting too long and this felt like a good placed to break it off.

Weeks had passed by after David had sobbed in the arms of a dead woman, when he finally received the signal he’d anxiously awaited. He had nearly jumped into his clothes, thrown his wet towel on the sofa before sprinting to catch the tube. 

Julia had spent the past weeks being tested, interviewed and held for observation, before her life had slowly been returned to her. Or what little there was left from it. Most of her possessions had already been given away, her whole wardrobe donated to women’s shelters, her flat put up for sale and completed on. Everything from her former life was gone, save for her treasured signet ring; a few things that even her mother couldn’t stand to throw away, and of course her handbag. Still sealed as evidence after the bombing that had supposedly killed her. _Could_ have killed her.

Julia had listened patiently as officials, one by one, had stopped by her hospital room to apologize and to attempt to explain how the Home Secretary ended up in a cold underground tunnel. How they assumed the casket at her intimate funeral had ended up empty as she had spent days listening to people fret about in panic. She had stared at them in disbelief as they essentially said they hadn’t had a clue to her whereabouts until long into an investigation into her death, when a surgeon consumed by guilt asked for immunity and protection in return for information. The same investigation David had been a part of all those months ago, the one that nearly killed him, twice, had eventually led to her standing on his front steps at 2 am with two protection officers waiting in a car outside. There hadn’t been time to talk then, and she’d merely whispered quickly in his ear as two guards stood by the front door informing her that the detour between the police station and the hospital was over. 

_“Please wait for me. If you decide you don’t want to hear from me, change your number and I won’t try to contact you again.”_

And now they were here, on a soft rug on the floor in Julia’s new apartment. She still had no real furniture, and felt no rush to shop for any yet. It was lighter than her previous flat, with its high windows overlooking the private garden, safely shielded from public view. More modern but with good bones, as the private realtor had made a point to mention when he’d visited the hospital room to hand over the keys. 

David watched while Julia nibbled on pizza crust as she looked around the place, carefully taking in her unfamiliar surroundings. He felt satisfied for the moment to simply look at her do anything, even simply eating half-decent pizza. He’d picked up some of the details of the case from his incessant nagging at old colleagues, but he still hadn’t heard her version of what happened. And he didn’t really want to ask. For the moment, seeing her face - so utterly alive and present in front of him, fuller and more like her old self than when she’d come back to him that night – felt like more than his share of luck.

Minutes passed by in silence as they both ate. A warm smile occasionally shared between them as Julia re-filled wine glasses. He noticed her hand shaking a little bit, let his eyes travel to the side of her neck as she leaned over carefully. He’d noticed the marks before, whether they were scars from the explosion or a result of whatever she was put through in captivity. They seemed slightly less angrily red now than he seemed to remember them being that life-changing night weeks ago. Each time David thought of something to say, it was as if Julia knew. Her brows would furrow and she’d take a deep breath, seemingly preparing for it. And each time he bit down on his pizza slice instead, until finally she broke the silence and fixed him with a look.

“You know, I wasn’t actually dead. I didn’t ‘ _come back from the dead_ ’, as they’re calling it. I’m not a zombie. And you don’t have to double check that I’m still here.”

“I just missed you. So much that it hurt.” He offered a half smile, still not sure whether she was ready to hear all the details about what had happened to him while she’d been held prisoner. If she was ready to know what he’d tried to do after she’d appeared to dead. The extent to which he’d grieved and fought for her. “And it’s not a bad face to look at.”

“What a charmer.” A brief smile gave way to a more curious look as she saw the intense curiosity in his face. “You really can ask you know. I won’t break.”

“What was it like? Down there, in that tunnel?” David saw Julia’s eyelids flutter, her body shaking slightly as she straightened her posture slightly.

“Dark. Cold. Safe. Terrifying.” She tried to appear seemingly unaffected, not wanting to allow darkness to seep its way through more of her than it already had. Here, unlike the last few weeks, she felt safe. Seeing the patience and warmth in his eyes, she wanted to continue beyond the short bits she’d shared with anyone thus far. It seemed a good idea rationally as much as it did emotionally. He was a police officer, he knew how these things went, he had training. Additionally, he was her… Her David. And he was here now. He hadn’t changed his phone number; hadn’t taken the chance to run away from her and her hefty baggage of conspiracy and danger. 

“They would move me sometimes. I don’t know why, just for brief periods of time, but mostly I was in that tunnel. Being kept alive in case I’d be useful to them later.” Her eyes grew smaller, her voice cracking slightly. She was very much still trying to process what had happened; she’d be foolish to claim otherwise. Still asking herself questions that she might never hear the answers to, not with the perpetrators either dead or incarcerated. 

“What did you think about down there?” David asked, softly and curiously. He noticed her flinch. Just barely, but definitely a flinch. “That’s an insensitive question, I’m so sorry, Julia. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“No, it’s refreshing actually. I mean, it is what everyone wants to ask, isn’t it?” She sounded stressed. The pitch in her voice rose steadily until she drew a deep breath, and sank down a bit on the floor. David wanted to say something, to take back what he’d started, but she took a deep breath and beat him to it.

“Everyone is walking on eggshells. The hospital staff seemed too scared to even ask what I’d like for breakfast. My mother calls me daily to ask how I’m doing. It’s very unsettling, she never did that before, but now all of a sudden she appears to care whether I slept through the night. I don’t, but I’d never tell her that.” David’s eyes didn’t move from her, carefully studying the woman before him as tiny cracks began to appear in her seemingly superwoman armor. Julia played with the napkin in her lap. When she opened her lips again, her voice was softer, slightly hushed. “ _None_ of those people cared what happened to me, or what I said or wanted before. Not until it directly affected them. And in the last few weeks they’ve sat there for hours, asking the most stupid, mundane questions. I mean, how many times can a person mention the weather? It’s London, it rains.”

“Julia…”

“I really like that about you, that you’re so honest, even when it’s painful. None of them even asked about the time I spent down there. The police on the other hand, treated me more like a suspect than a…” _Victim._ Julia Montague was now the victim of a crime more likely to appear on some insipid American crime show than in the reality she’d lived in for 41 years. A _victim._. How she hated that word. “Your colleague DS Rayburn did try to appear empathic, though I really don’t think I’m her favorite person. Which is how I ended up down there to begin with, I suppose…”

“You’re safe now.” David reached for her hand, squeezing it gently as he looked down, saw how perfectly it fit in his own. “I won’t let any of those bastards anywhere near you.”

“Well, they’re all in prison now. Or dead.” She threw the napkin onto the rug with a sigh. They were gone, she knew that to be true. She’d observed several of the faces she’d grown familiar with dead on the floor, as she was taken to safety.

“After the year we’ve had, I don’t trust anything. Or anyone. I’ll be keeping an eye out in case the police missed something.”

“Alright, James Bond.” She chuckled a bit, as her softer eyes met his angry ones, and she watched as the anger slowly dissipated. She had to admit it felt nice, seeing his emotional response. To feel someone care, for once, about her, not what he could leverage from her. David leaned over, pizza boxes shuffling as he stretched over them before his lips finally touched hers. Julia felt something resembling a jolt of electricity run through her, familiar and new at once. Full of hope and promise, but with the warm comfort of the memory of the last time she’d felt truly happy. It had been what she’d held on to as the cold buried itself deep in her bones. Replaying over and over in her mind along with other memories from a life she seemed to slip further and further away from. 

_Watching her father stoke the fire as her mother read beside her on the first Christmas she could remember, and the coldness of her mother’s eyes as she closed the bedroom door after his funeral. Car trips with her grandfather in the summer. Her first boyfriend. Graduating law school. Her first day working as a criminal barrister, and her last. Winning her first election. The day she’d walked out of her marital home. Standing beside the former Prime Minister at the press conference announcing her as Home Secretary. And him. Lying face to face with David under the blanket fort he’d insisted on making for them. Sharing secrets they’d never told anyone before. And pressed together, sweaty skin to sweaty skin, that last night as they giggled, satisfied and exhausted after once again falling into what had become their routine. His face flushed and glowing towards at her as he’d kissed her lazily before quickly dozing off on top of her._

“I’ve never had anyone care about me the way you do. I did love Roger once, in the beginning, and Roger loved me, but we didn’t care about each other. At least not deeply. Not like...” _This_ , she wanted to add. And it seemed he knew. He stroked her fingers, gently and assuringly to remind her that he was there. His eyes shone towards her, brimming with light and goodness and warmth. The same eyes that had stared back at her in that gunned down car. That had barely dared to look at her when she’d tentatively reached up to kiss him only hours later. Eyes whose job it had been to watch out for danger around her, and that had become the memory of safety in the dark tunnel she’d spent the last few months in.

“In some really dark moments, I held onto that. To you. I wanted to know your answer.” David smiled nervously and Julia cleared her throat as she straightened her back. “And I… realized as the time passed that I simply want you in my life, in whichever way you want to be in it. I want you with me because you make me want to be better. And aren’t those the people you’re supposed to hold onto?”

“Yes,” He sat back a bit, and nodded. Eyes narrow and mouth pursed as he took in her words. “I’d suppose so.”

Her lips curled into a quick smile as she looked around the flat again. She still seemed nervous. David wondered if they now shared that all too familiar trembling, that slight feeling of worry and stress that never left. If she, too, had trouble breathing sometimes. Not in the way that she made him feel breathless, but in the way it felt like his mind sometimes grabbed him in a chokehold.

“What will you do now? Could you be Home Secretary again?” 

“I honestly don’t know. Maybe. This is all rather unchartered territory. But I… I don’t think I want to.” He looked up, surprised, meeting her gaze. “That world is so… cold. And gray. And I’ve had enough cold and gray for a lifetime. I was good at that world, rather excellent actually. I think I was a good politician. Maybe too good. You asked me what someone thinks about when you’re held prisoner. Well, for me, it was quite illuminating. I didn’t see anyone for months except for people that literally held my life in their corrupt hands. People that had already tried to kill me twice. It’s sobering. And terrifying. None of the power I had worked so hard for mattered at all. I had lived my entire political life in some sort of gray-zone. Trying to get what I wanted, but still be able to live with myself. Watching people around me do horrid things and often excusing them because that was the game of politics. You had to operate in a gray-zone or you didn’t survive long. Down there everything was black and white, life or death. So I suppose you gain perspective you simply didn’t have before. Maybe one day I’ll want to go back. I’m sure my doctors will be on me about therapy, so maybe that’s enough for now.”

“It’s hard, but you’ll need it. We both do.” She looked up him, surprise coloring her face as she took in his words. He smiled back, lowering his gaze as he took a deep breath. “They made me go. I kept going because it makes me feel better. You were right, I did need help.” He look up again, meeting her eyes as she smiled. Unless he was utterly mistaken, she seemed proud. His breath caught in his throat, it seemed to be an opening to share all the things he dreaded telling her, but Julia’s sharp intake of breath disrupted his courage.

“Tell me about your life. How are your children faring with everything that’s happened?” She’d been caught up on some things thanks to the endless articles about her miraculous return from the dead. They were always thorough enough to include background information on the man that set it all in motion. Recently divorced, two children, currently on medical leave after having been on desk duty for a while. So much had changed in what felt like such a short time, and yet sitting opposite from him it felt as if no time had passed at all. She was curious.

“I have my kids half the time now. Mostly. Vicky still bares the brunt of the responsibility, but I’m more involved. She’s been great. She understands that I’m a work in progress. The kids do too. They really want a dog, but no one’s ready for that yet. Although it would be nice having someone to take for walks now I’m not working. Might get them a fish. See if they can keep that alive for a month.” Julia laughed, and she caught herself. Today had been the first time she’d done that in almost six months. Almost half of a whole year without filling her lungs with air in that forceful way that laughter does. Six months without feeling alive.

“So, we’re both without jobs. There’s a sex scandal somewhere out there. Inquiries into our behavior will come, I’m sure. My mother calls to check up on me. Once she even said she was ‘sorry I was going through so much’, and that’s never happened before. I had two Prime Ministers apologize to me in the span of a week. The whole world has turned upside down, and I’m not sure if I’m more concerned or curious to see what comes next.”

“They probably won’t stop writing about you, will they? Or about you and me. After they found those tapes of us in Aikens’ stash, it’s not likely to end anytime soon, is it? Even though you’re not the Home Secretary anymore and I’m not your PPO.” He sipped his wine as he glanced over at her. She looked surprisingly calm, all things considered. He hoped they’d shielded her from it. Hearing their intimate moments played and replayed on TV whenever they could find a way to include it. 

“No. But they can write whatever they want. I don’t care anymore. They’re just words. In a few days, I won’t be around to read about it anyway.” Julia shrugged.

“Why, where will you be?” David’s pulse raced.

“I’ve not decided yet, but I’m taking a holiday.” He released the breath he’d held, visibly relaxing as she continued to speak. “That tunnel was so dark and cold, and for some reason, I can’t ever seem to feel warm enough now. Every day down there I just longed to see the sun again. But as this is England, that’s not a given. So I want to go away somewhere warm. And light. Somewhere that the sunset takes your breath away, and the sunrise makes everything seem new and hopeful.” She took a large sip of wine, happily letting it swirl in her mouth for a few seconds as she closed her eyes. David watched as she took deep breaths, his stomach filling with a mix of wild courage and uncertainty before he decided to go for it.

“Can you make it for two?” He said, confidently. She was taken aback. Lips parting and closing again, unsure of what to say. “I’m not doing anything the next few weeks, and Vicky’s taken the kids up to her mum’s cottage over the school break to get them away from everything. And I’m sure my therapist would approve of getting away from the media.”

“You don’t think that’s too soon?” David watched as Julia’s wine glass twirled between her fingers. 

“Since when have we done what’s expected of us?” He watched intently, saw a small smile form in the right corner of her mouth. 

He took the empty glass from her hand and set it by his own, behind him on the floor. He was careful not to land on the pizza boxes – he had every intention of introducing Julia to his deep love of leftover pizza – as he leaned over and pinned her to the floor. “Say yes. If nothing else, I’m someone to make sure you never run out of cold drinks.”

“Well, now you’ve convinced me.” The half-smile had reached every corner of her face now. He smiled back, gently nipping at her lips as he straddled her body. His hands slid down her wrists, gently sliding into the unusually cold but soft comfort of her hands. He felt her fingers wrap around his as he leaned down and whispered against her lips before claiming them with his own.

“Make it really far away.”

**Author's Note:**

> Writing a post-kidnapping Julia Montague is really weird. We knew her for far too short a time, but in my head, it needs to feel like she's changed. She's a bit lost, traumatized after everything that happened since October 1st the year before and she's unsure. If you feel that's out of character for her, then that's alright, I understand that. I feel trauma changes people, so I chose this route.
> 
> When they met, David was the one incapable of dealing with his trauma, and now that will be sort of shifted as David's had six months of help in her absence. He's obviously far from being healed, but he's accepting of his situation, whereas Julia is still full of broken pieces. So it's a little journey.
> 
> I hope it feels clear why she was kidnapped in the first place (I could have written a lot about it, but had to draw the line somewhere), and as always, comments are always very welcome!


End file.
